


never caught my breath

by illimerence



Series: no good reason [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illimerence/pseuds/illimerence
Summary: Cullen's never done this before.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Cullen Rutherford
Series: no good reason [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560949
Comments: 4
Kudos: 119





	never caught my breath

**Author's Note:**

> technically a follow-up to no good reason, but i don't think you need to read that for this to make sense

“Oh fuck,” Cullen says. “Oh, Maker.”

Dorian smooths a hand down Cullen’s thigh soothingly, his fingers motionless inside him. “Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?”

“No!” Cullen exclaims. “No, don’t stop.”

Dorian chuckles, and twists his fingers, and Cullen groans wordlessly. It’s good, better than he had thought it would be already, and Dorian’s only two fingers deep. There’s something so satisfying about it, about the stretch and the friction and the intensity of having something inside his body, and he can hardly keep still; he reaches for Dorian, grips his bicep while Dorian opens him up carefully.

Cullen shudders when Dorian pulls his fingers all the way out. He can feel his hole twitching around nothing, his cock hard and leaking over his belly, and the thought that Dorian can see that, how desperate he is for this, makes his skin prickle with heat.

“One more,” Dorian murmurs, pouring more lube over his fingers, enough that it drips down his palm and onto the sheets.

Three fingers, this time. Cullen gasps as Dorian sinks knuckle-deep inside him easily, cold lube and hot skin. His legs fall open a little further.

“Good?” Dorian asks. Cullen nods frantically.

“Please,” he says, like it’s the only word he knows.

Dorian leans down to kiss him quiet. More than anything, this is the part Cullen still can’t believe: Dorian’s lips, soft and warm against his, and the taste of him, salt and skin and wine. His clever tongue flicks against Cullen’s and his fingers are moving slow inside him, dragging against his insides. And then Dorian crooks his fingers and Cullen convulses, his eyes rolling back as a wave of pure pleasure rushes over him, his cock kicking against his stomach. He lets out a broken moan, his entire body alight with it, his legs shaking and back bowing. Fuck. He hasn’t come this fast since he was a teenager.

Dorian’s laughing. “Yes? Good?”

Cullen gasps for air. He looks down at himself—his cock is still hard, leaking clear fluid across his belly.

Dorian moves his fingers again and Cullen lets out a shocked noise as it hits a second time, unbridled pleasure sparking in every inch of his body. Before he has time to recover Dorian does it again, and again, and Cullen is distantly aware that he’s babbling, “oh Maker, oh Maker, oh Dorian, oh fuck,” but he has no control over it. The pleasure swells and crests and swells again with each pass of Dorian’s fingertips, and he’s crying out, breathless, mindless, as his body is assaulted again and again with what feels like the first moments of orgasm.

Dorian rubs against that spot inside Cullen over and over. It’s almost unbearable in its intensity, the pleasure shooting through him like electricity, ceaseless. Cullen can hear the noises he’s making, desperate and wordless, as Dorian takes him apart piece by piece. He shudders and moans and his cock drools pre-come and his hole spasms around Dorian’s fingers.

Time stretches infinitely as Cullen hangs there, on the brink of orgasm, Dorian’s wicked fingers playing over that spot while Cullen whines and writhes. He feels tears gather at the corners of his eyes and spill over, running down his temples.

“Look at you,” Dorian whispers reverently. “Look at you, you like it.”

“Yeah,” Cullen says, “yeah, I do, it’s good, Dorian, it’s –“

“I’m going to fuck you,” Dorian says, his voice hot with want, sending lightening up Cullen’s spine. He pulls his fingers free. “Do you want to turn over?”

Cullen thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “Want to see you,” he says. He knows it’s going to leave Dorian speechless. Anything remotely romantic does.

He’s not disappointed. Dorian opens and closes his mouth once, twice, and then he smiles. “Of course you do,” he says, his voice steady. “I am the most handsome man you’ve ever been with, after all.”

He means it flippantly—he’s the only man Cullen’s ever been with, and he knows it—but Cullen reaches up to touch his cheek and says, “that you are.” He relishes the way Dorian’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of copper. He never thought he’d be able to make Dorian blush like Dorian makes him blush, but it turns out that any hint of romantic sentiment has Dorian turning pink all the way to his ears. Cullen loves it.

“Charmer,” Dorian says.

While Dorian’s fiddling with the condom and lube, Cullen reaches between his own legs, slips the very tips of his fingers into himself. _Oh_. This is what he’s been missing out on. He slides two fingers inside himself up to the second joint and sighs at the feeling of having something inside of him.

He and Dorian have been whatever they are for months now, good morning kisses and cuddling on the couch and also having a lot of sex. Like a lot. Cullen has fucked Dorian on the couch, and bent over the kitchen table, and on the floor of the living room, and in the shower, and against the wall in the hallway, and in both of their beds too many times to count; and Dorian hasn’t fucked Cullen once.

Not that Cullen hasn’t wanted it. Every time he’s seen Dorian’s back arch and his mouth drop open and his eyes go glassy he’s thought about it, how good it must feel to be filled up and strung out. Dorian makes these noises when he’s getting fucked: short, surprised-sounding moans, like he can’t believe how good it is.

Cullen just… he’s never done it before, and he was kind of nervous, and every time he thought about asking for it he ended up overthinking it and not saying anything at all. But then finally— _finally_ —Dorian had asked _him_. Because “I’ve bottomed more in the past four months than I have in the past four years” and “it’s not that I don’t like it, because I really do, and if it turns out that you don’t I will gladly continue getting fucked by you,” and “I just enjoy topping, and I’m good at it, and I know you’d like it.”

Cullen had laughed, relieved, and admitted that he’d been thinking about it an awful lot, and Dorian’s smile had turned sly and he’d said, “oh, you have, have you?” and now it’s forty-five minutes (and one very thorough shower) later and Cullen is on his back on his bed with Dorian naked and hard between his spread legs, and he’s about to get fucked for the first time. Ever.

He spreads his fingers inside himself, breath unsteady, and hears Dorian swear. “Fuck, Cullen.”

“Yes please,” he says, sliding his fingers out, and he smiles beatifically up at Dorian. Dorian, above him, swears again, his eyes dark with want.

Dorian pushes Cullen’s legs back until his thighs are almost flush against his chest, keeps one hand on the back of Cullen’s thigh, the other on Cullen’s ass. Cullen feels very exposed and a little awkward and so incredibly hot he can’t believe it, his face burning with an odd combination of embarrassment and desire. But Dorian is looking at him like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Ready?” Dorian asks, even though Cullen’s sure that just how ready he is must be written all over his face.

He nods. “Yeah. Yes, I’m ready.”

The head of Dorian’s cock presses hot against Cullen for a moment, and then Dorian’s sliding slowly into him, Cullen’s body opening easily around him. “Oh fuck,” Cullen says again. “Oh fuck – oh, Maker – fuck, Dorian…!”

“Are you alright?” Dorian’s voice is breathless and filled with something Cullen isn’t sure he’s ready to name. His hands are firm on the backs of Cullen’s thighs, his thumbs rubbing circles into the skin there. His eyes, when Cullen meets them, are all pupil. And his _cock_ —Cullen’s entire world has narrowed to where Dorian’s cock is buried in him, hard and hot and filling him up so sweetly, and Cullen can hardly breathe with how good it is, how intense it is, how badly he wants it.

“I’m good,” Cullen says. “I’m, oh, I’m better than good.” He squeezes experimentally around Dorian and they groan in unison, pleasure flaring in Cullen’s gut. “Fuck, Dorian, I want…”

“I know,” Dorian says, and he shifts on his knees, his dick sliding out of Cullen a few inches before Dorian presses steadily back in. This time the head of his cock drags against that spot inside Cullen, and Cullen’s whole body goes rigid for a moment as the heat rushes through him, his cock twitching and dripping a thin thread of pre-come down the side.

“Maker!” Cullen gasps, when he can talk again. “Is it always like this?”

Dorian laughs quietly. “That depends. Are we talking about generally, or are we talking about you? Because no, I don’t think everyone is quite as… sensitive… as you are.” He rolls his hips, and Cullen shudders as another bolt of heat rolls through him. “I’m certainly not. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy it – I do, very much – but you… look at you,” he says, “you could come like this, couldn’t you? Just from this.”

Cullen moans. “I thought I already did,” he admits. “Before, when you had your fingers in me… I was certain I was—ah!” Dorian thrusts into him again before Cullen can finish his sentence and the rest of his thoughts disintegrate into a cloud of bliss. “Yes,” he hisses instead, “fuck, Dorian, please!”

Dorian wasn’t lying when he said he was good at this. Or maybe Cullen’s just wired to take it, however it comes. But Dorian fucks him, and Cullen’s whole body throbs with it, the pleasure rippling over him like waves until he can’t think of anything else but Dorian on top of him, Dorian inside him, Dorian’s hands on his skin and his mouth on his neck and oh dear sweet Maker how did he spend so many years thinking he was straight? How did he spend so many months worried he wouldn’t like this? He wants this to last forever, wants to spend the rest of his days like this, with Dorian inside him as he pulls every last ounce of pleasure from Cullen’s body.

When he comes it’s both a shock and entirely expected at the same time. He feels as if he’s been on the edge since Dorian’s fingers first found that place inside him, feels like every thrust is going to be the one that finally drags him over into orgasm, but it still catches him off-guard when the tension finally snaps and he curls in on himself as he comes, spilling across his stomach, sobbing with the intensity of it.

He lies there, boneless and panting, as Dorian swears and groans and fucks him faster, burying his face in Cullen’s neck as he thrusts into him. And it stills feels good, even after he’s spent himself completely, the friction almost soothing even as the pass of Dorian’s cock across his prostate turns to something close to pain with overstimulation.

He wraps his arms around Dorian, holding him close, and mumbles for Dorian to “come on, come in me, I want it, I love y—” and then Dorian’s coming too, shoving as deep into Cullen as he can and moaning as he shakes apart above him.

Dorian collapses on top of him with a quiet, satisfied noise. They lie there for a long moment, skin to skin, and Cullen pets idly at Dorian’s back as they both catch their breath.

“Well,” Dorian says eventually, “I believe that was a success, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Cullen says. “I think we should try it again, just to be sure. Preferably more than once. Maybe in different positions.”

Dorian smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and kisses Cullen. “I like the way you think.”


End file.
